The Winds of Change
by KayDrew
Summary: What would happen if things happened differently? What some events couldn't be changed? Will their friendship remain or will things go terribly wrong? The is an AU story to 'The Wicked Day' - 4X03 episode tag. Please, R&R!
1. Desisions

The second he'd heard that Uther had been mortally wounded, Merlin had debated using his magic to save the King. The instant he'd seen Arthur's tearstained face and heard the Prince's cracking voice he'd decided without a doubt, he'd use his magic to save the monarch. He was not saving Uther for Uther's sake, but for Arthur's well-being and the future of Albion. If magic saved the Prince's father than perhaps, Arthur would unban magic – once he was King.

Merlin was scared, terrified in fact. He wasn't sure what the outcome would be. Healing incantations were not this warlock's strong suit. Merlin couldn't remember one time that it had actually worked. If it didn't help this time and Merlin inadvertently killed Uther then his hopes for a magic-filled Camelot would be shattered and he might even lose his very life. If it did work, Merlin wondered who would be sacrificed for Uther's life. Merlin knew that he'd be creating an imbalance by healing the King. Ygraine died in birth so that Arthur lived. So would Arthur or even he, himself, pass away instead?

_Don't think about this. Don't think of the what if's. Those aren't important right now. Saving Uther is all that matters_, thought Merlin as he stood from sitting on the edge of his bed. _You might spook yourself into not acting._

The warlock stood in the middle of his room as he looked around his space as if it was his last time being in this room. Perhaps, this would be the final time he'd be here, especially if it didn't work. His arms hung limply on either side of his torso. The muscles in his upper limbs were taught, as if waiting to act – to lift the books needed, flip through them for the proper incantation or tincture, and then, finally, to do the actual magic that would make or break his very existence.

Taking a shaky breath, he headed to the door. The floor beneath him creaked slightly, as it always did. In this trying time, the sound was a constant, a comfort. Descending the narrow stairs, the warlock stood at the foot of them as he glanced around the cluttered and cozy living area. There were pots, equipment, and every other necessity strewn everywhere. Herbs hung from the ceiling. Books and bottles over-filled the shelves until they nearly fell to the floor. The fire blazed in the fireplace, cooking the food in the cauldron – some rabbit stew from the smell of it.

Shaking his head to clear it of his reverie, he crossed the room to the bookcase. Staring up at the shelves, he spotted a few books that looked helpful. With his hand raised, he whispered a quick spell. Eyes glowing gold for a moment, the books he wanted came slowly flying towards him. Merlin caught each one as they neared and then laid them on the bench where Gaius and he sat to eat their meals. It happened that was the only empty space to place the books, anyway.

Grabbing the top book in the stack, he began flipping through the tome, reading as fast as he could. "Nope," muttered Merlin as the warlock tossed the book aside and seized the next book in the pile. The young man studied this novel just as quickly as he had the first.

"What are you doing," came a sharp exclamation as Merlin threw the book with the other one.

Merlin jumped as he looked up. He stared at his sergeant father with he was sure an odd expression shining in his eyes. He was certain that his gaze betrayed "Gaius," he said. "I didn't hear you come in…"

"I just came in," Gaius replied. Concern was in his aged eyes. "Now, tell me, what are you doing? You're making a mess boy!"

The warlock couldn't help but glance around as Gaius spoke. The room was already a mess, but Merlin didn't remind his mentor that. "I'm going to help him," Merlin said.

"Help who," asked Gaius as he crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't move from his spot. He just stood and stared at the young man before him.

"Uther…" the warlock muttered. His eyes were cast downwards. Even though he was sure of what he was about to do, Merlin couldn't face looking into Gaius's eyes. There'd be fear, there'd be anger, there'd be perhaps even confusion. He didn't want to see any of that. He couldn't. Seeing it might just make Merlin chicken out and not go through with his plan.

"You can't," Gaius whispered. His voice conveyed the horror and fear at this idea as it wavered. It said so much more than those two words. It silently asked what would happen if he was killed or if Uther didn't make it. It showed Gaius would be crushed if anything happened to Merlin and the physician would blame himself if it did.

"With magic, I can!" Merlin shouted. He finally looked at Gaius. His blue eyes were hard and confident. There was no changing his mind and that was blatantly apparent. He gave his mentor a look that said, _You'll have to tie me up to stop me. Go ahead and try me. It won't work._

"You'll be hanged! You'll be risking your life," Gaius pointed out as he came over to where Merlin sat. It was a feeble attempt at trying to stop the young man who sat before him. Slowly, he lowered himself onto the bench. Books separated him and his ward, but neither noticed them.

"I risk my life every day, Gaius," Merlin pointed out softly. His brow peaked as he gave a weary smile to Gaius. It slowly fell as he sighed. A hopeful gleam shined within his blue orbs as the warlock stared at the books. The determined look was back in his blue eyes. It had to work, even if this was the last thing he ever did. "I am going to do this. You can't change my mind. You won't."


	2. It's Time

The dusky light filtered through the stained glass windows. The torches hanging on the walls cast long, eerie shadows, of Merlin's silluette, on the floor and wall. The warlock strode through these halls with his head held high and his bright blue eyes focused straight ahead of him. His lips were set in a thin line. His jaw clenched. The muscle in his cheek pulsed with pent-up energy.

Hearing footsteps echo around him, Merlin glanced behind him. He didn't see anything. Looking to his right, Merlin didn't see anyone. However, when he looked to his left, there was Gwaine, exiting the room the warlock had just past. The knight's gait was a dithering mess. He zigzagged left and right. Several times he pressed his hand against the stone wall to keep himself from falling on his face.

"Merlin," Gwaine said in an overly cheerful voice that was tinged with a slurring sound. The roguish knight saddled up to Merlin. "So glad to see you, mate. What you doin' out so late?"

"I'm going to go check on Arthur. See if he needs anything," Merlin said. His voice was low and quiet. "It's been a few hours."

Gwaine planted a heavy hand on Merlin's shoulder. "You're a good friend, Merlin. I don't know if the princess deserves you as a friend. He's lucky," Gwaine said. "Anyone would be to have you at their side with your kindness and bravery and fearlessness! You know what, you should be a knight?"  
>Merlin wrinkled his nose as he smelled the pungent aroma of alcohol waft from the man's mouth. He waved his hand in front of his nose. "Gwaine, how much did you drink," asked the warlock.<p>

"No more than usual," Gwaine said as he tripped over the hem of the rug. He went careening forward. To keep himself upright, the knight grabbed the flower vase on the table. "Whoa! Well, maybe a little more than usual."

"You don't say. Why don't you got to Gaius's? You'll need his help in the morning," Merlin said as he pushed Gwaine in the direction of the physician's quarters. "I'll be around later. I have something important to talk to Arthur about."

Gwaine waved. As he did, he staggered to one side. "Good night, Sir Merlin," he said as he rounded a corner.

Merlin chuckled a little. He shook his head as a slight smile crossed his face. It fell as he reached Uther's quarters. The warlock stopped at the door. He just stood there, staring at Arthur's profile. The Prince stood at the foot of the bed. One of his hands rested lightly on one of the poles holding up the canopy. While Arthur's back was to Merlin, the warlock could still see his profile.

Merlin thought the young man looked years older. There were dark bags under his eyes. No light shined in Arthur's blue eyes. They were dull and tired. Deep lines of worry and fear were etched around his frowning mouth. His hair was unkempt and his clothes wrinkled. Merlin could not ever remember seeing Arthur in such a state.

He inhaled deeply and then exhaled just as intensely before entering the chambers. "Sire," Merlin said softly. "How is he?"

Arthur did not turn towards Merlin. "No better. He's fading," the Prince said. His voice was thick and it was apparent that he was trying to hold back the tears. "Gaius does not think he'll live too much longer – two days, maybe three at the most. I'm not ready to lose him, Merlin. I'm scared."

Merlin's eyes widen. Merlin was shocked at the revelation, even though Merlin knew his friend was terrified. He'd never heard Arthur admit to fear. He didn't really admit being afraid when they were trapped in the dungeons of the ruins with dorocha flying all over the place. "I know," he whispered. The warlock didn't prattle on. It didn't seem appropriate or needed.

Slowly, the Prince turned to face Merlin. "If your mother was in dire need and had a mortal wound, would you use magic to save her," Arthur asked.

"What?" Merlin asked as he staggered back. He couldn't believe his ears. First, Arthur admitted to trepidation. Now, he was considering using magic to save his father. Was Merlin dreaming? The warlock resisted the urge to pinch himself.

"You heard me," the blond-haired man said as he strode forward. "Would you use magic to save your mother?"

"I wouldn't hesitate."

"Should I? I can't lose him, Merlin. I'm not ready. I'm not ready to say good-bye and I am not ready to be King of this land. There is much I need to learn from my father before he passes," Arthur whispered as he hung his head.

"If there is a chance to save your father, take it. You'll regret it later if you don't."

"But, where can I find someone to help us? There's no one left in Camelot who wields magic!"

"Actually…"

"Yes?"

"There is someone who can help your father."

"Great, let's go find him!"

"Arthur…"

"Merlin, why are you stalling? Let's go," Arthur asked as he headed to the door.

"Can you wait, for just a minute? I need to tell you something."

"You can tell me on the way to finding this warlock."

"Arthur…"

"Merlin, saddle the horses. We're leaving in an hour. That's an order," Arthur's voice was firm. There was a dangerous and slightly manic glint in his eyes that made Merlin relent. "Do you understand?"

Merlin nodded. "I do. I will go saddle the horses," he whispered.

"Good. I will meet you at the stalls in an hour. The horses had better be ready," Arthur said as he turned away from Merlin.

Very well," he said slowly. The warlock backed out of the room, but stopped when Arthur said his name. "Yes?"

"I better not regret going after this warlock. He better not mess up. If he does..."

"I know," Merlin interrupted. He didn't want to hear the rest of Arthur's thoughts. With haste, he headed out of the room and down the hall.


	3. Revelations

Merlin and Arthur had been riding for several hours with the warlock in the lead. Neither Arthur nor Merlin said a word. Arthur broke the silence instead of Merlin. "Why don't you shut up Merlin? You're _oh so_ talkative. I can't hear myself think," the Prince said in a sarcastic voice and with a roll of his blue eyes.

"I'm concentrating," Merlin mumbled softly.

"Does it hurt?" asked Arthur as he looked around at the scenery. There was little light left. It was almost impossible to see the road underneath them. Nearby, a small shack loomed. "Merlin, when are we going to find this warlock? We'll be crossing into King Lots land any moment and I don't want to get into a disagreement. It's the last thing Camelot needs."

"We can stop. He's close by," Merlin said in a low voice as he pulled on the reigns. When the horse halted, Merlin hopped off his horse.

"Great, where is he," Arthur asked as he dismounted and handed his horses reigns to Merlin before heading to the little shack. "This looks like the charcoal maker's house."

"It is…," the warlock said. He didn't move; Merlin just stood there in between the horses.

"So, this warlock also makes charcoal? It makes since. He's got to make a living too, I guess," Arthur mused, which made Merlin sigh in expiration. "What?"

"Will you just let me talk? Please? Let me talk," Merlin begged. He was shaking inside, although his body was completely still. His stomach was flipping over and over and the warlock felt as if he were about to throw up.

Arthur frowned at Merlin. "I wouldn't be so snippy, if I were you Merlin," said the man in a flat voice. "My patience is not long."

"When is it," asked Merlin. The Prince started towards the warlock. "OK…. OK. I'm sorry. May I please talk? I have something to say. It's really important."

"Much better, Merlin. Yes, you may talk," Arthur replied. When Merlin didn't say anything for several minutes, Arthur raised a hand as well as an eyebrow. "Well, are you going to say something or are we just going to stand here all night gawking at each other? May I remind you that my father's life is on the line?"

"I know. I know. I just, I'm just not sure how to say this. I've been waiting years to tell you. Years. This wasn't how I expected to let you know the truth. But, I guess now is as good of time to tell you as any. Maybe it's for the best," Merlin said.

His words made Arthur's brow furrow. The Prince crossed his arms over his chest. His mouth opened and closed. "Wha…what are you trying to say? I'm confused. You're not making any since. What do you need to tell me," asked Arthur. "You can say anything to me, Merlin. You know that and have known that for years and years. Even if there were things you couldn't say, it wouldn't stop you. Just tell me. What is it?"

Merlin licked his lips. "Well, first of all, this is the charcoal maker's house. Secondly, he is not the warlock. We didn't even need to go out searching for the man. He was already in the castle. He was nearby. He was so close to you that he was in your room," he began.

"I'm still confused," the Prince whispered as he tapped his foot lightly on the ground. "Why are you talking so cryptically, Merlin? It's not like you and it's scaring me a little."

"I'm scared, too, Arthur. I don't know how you will react to what I'm about ready to say," the warlock said. He bowed his head and took a deep breath while closing his eyes. After exhaling, he raised his head. "Arthur, I am the warlock. I can help save your father."

"What?" Arthur demanded as he took a step back. Fear and hurt and confusing shined in his eyes. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"Arthur, I'm a warlock. I was born that way. I can't help who I am. I've only used my powers for good. You have to believe me," Merlin said in a rush.

"I don't have to do anything. We're heading back to Camelot – now. You're going to heal my father as soon as we return. If it doesn't work…" Arthur said. His voice was hard and cold. The Prince didn't meet the warlock's eyes as he went over to Merlin and yanked the reigns from his grasp.

"If it doesn't work, what will you do to me?" Merlin asked as he mounted.

"I don't know," Arthur admits as he mounts his own horse.

"And if it works," the warlock wondered in a soft voice.

"If it works, then I will reconsider what magic is and what it can be used for. I might consider lifting the ban on the craft – after I am king. There's nothing I could do now though," Arthur explained as they rode back towards Camelot.

"I understand," Merlin whispered with a nod. He did understand. The warlock didn't think that Arthur could do anything now nor did he expect him to. Uther would never change his mind about magic – no matter how many good deeds were done.

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Arthur after awhile.

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Sure you do. You were afraid," the Prince replied as he looked over at the wide-eyed warlock. "You were afraid of what I would do to you if I found out."

"At first, I was, but not after awhile. I knew I could tell you. I just…I just couldn't. You had so many things to worry about. And, well, I didn't want anyone else having to protect me from your father. I hated keeping my secret and that others kept it," Merlin said, not realized he revealed that others were aware of his gift.

"Who else knew or knows?" Arthur asked suddenly.

"What? Oh…. My mother, Will, Freya (the bastet), Balinor, Nimueh, Lancelot, Gaius," Merlin whispered. He had to think about it for a moment before spouting off the list.

"That's it?" Arthur asked.

"That's it," Merlin confirmed.

"That's not many," the Prince whispered.

"No," the warlock said as they neared the castle. "Are we still friends?"

"It depends on what happens next," Arthur said as he entered the gates, leaving Merlin with his panic and fears.


	4. Magic

Merlin was sweating under the armpits as he walked the halls behind Arthur. What if his magic didn't work? What if it did work and he saved Uther? He honestly could be dead either way. If he didn't save Uther then Arthur might skewer him with his sword. If Uther lived, Merlin's head might be on the chopping block without a second's hesitation even though he'd used magic for good.

Nearing Uther's room, the Prince stops and so does Merlin. Arthur looks at the two men guarding the doorway. "You two are dismissed," he says.

"But, sire, we were ordered to stay here," exclaims one of the men.

"It was I who ordered you to stay here and keep vigil outside of my down. And, now under my orders, you're dismissed for now. Go get yourself some food or a bit of sleep. When you're needed, you shall be called," said Arthur in a firm voice.

The guards nod and bow to the prince. "Very well, sire," they say in unison. Without another word, the two men head down the hall and round a corner.

"Come one," Arthur said gruffly as he enters the room without waiting for Merlin.

The warlock follows Arthur. He is shaking and keeps having to take deep breaths. He wasn't as good with healing spells as he was with defense and making spells, but Merlin was not about to tell Arthur that he wasn't very skilled at this. Besides, Merlin could heal. It just took a little more energy and time to do the magic.

"So, what do you do? What do you need," Arthur asked as he stood at the foot of the bed. However, the Prince could not stand still and soon was pacing. It was making Merlin very nervous.

"Well, I need… I need everything to be quiet. I have to concentrate. I need you to be still too. Your movement is distracting," Merlin said as he went over to Uther side. He looked down at the pale King and took in another deep breath as he examined the wound at the King's side.

"Is that all?" asked Arthur. There was a hint of surprise in the Prince's voice and Merlin was sure that if he looked at Arthur, there would be shock shining in his blue eyes as well.

"That's all. Well, that and give me space. You're fine standing there," Merlin said. He looked over at Arthur and gave the blonde-haired Prince a feeble smile that Arthur did not return. After being given a nod that signaled Go ahead, Merlin rested his hands over Uther's wound.

He closed his eyes and focused his energy on his task. He 'explored' the wound with his mind and magic – he felt its shape, its deepness, its pain – so that he knew precisely what he was dealing with and trying to heal. The wound was small – no bigger than a butter knife's blade, however it was deep. Merlin would have to focus on healing the wound from the bottom up. The wound couldn't be closed if the rest of it was left open and bleeding inside. Uther would surely die if Merlin did that. Once he was sure he knew the wound, Merlin took another deep breath and opened his eyes.

"Ic haele thina throwunga!" Merlin chanted. His voice was deep and the words he spoke reverberated through the King's chambers. Little beads of sweat formed at his dark hairline and his color-drained face was covered in a glistening film of perspiration.

With each word the warlock spoke, he could feel the incantation work upon Uther. Merlin's side ached and burned as if it was he who'd received the wound. His chest felt tight and his breaths came laboriously as his body worked to stay conscious. To his utter dismay, the warlock realized it would be he (the healer), who would be the sacrifice to keep the balance and harmony of the world in order.

Arthur hardly noticed his discomfort and Merlin didn't mention it. His life was not important - Uther's life that mattered right now. Merlin would deal with the consequences later.

Merlin realized he hadn't been focused on anything. The warlock blinked and looked over at Arthur. The Prince's eyes were planted on the sleeping form. Hearing a raspy breath, Merlin looked at Uther as Arthur came to his father's side.

Sinking down onto his knees beside the bed, Arthur took Uther's hand. "Father? Can you hear me," asked the Prince. His voice shook as he spoke.

Uther blinked once or twice as he focused on his son's face. "Arthur," breathed the King.

Arthur brushed a few, stray tears away as he squeezed his father's hand. "I'm here," he whispered. "I'm here."

Merlin laughed. A large smile crossed his face despite how he was feeling. It had worked! Uther would live...

The man in the best gasped. His eyes widen as he clutched his chest. "Ar..." the King whispered before his eyes flutter closed and his breathing stopped.

"Father? Father," Arthur called. His voice dripped the panic he felt. Lightly, the Prince shook Uther's shoulders, but he got no response. Arthur stood. He drew his sword and pointed it at Merlin. "What did you do," he demanded.

"It should've worked! I don't understand," whispered Merlin as he also stood. He found his legs hardly held him up. To keep himself standing, the warlock held onto the post. "It should've worked."

"Well, it didn't! And now he's dead," growled Arthur. "I knew I shouldn't have used magic. He would've had a chance."

"He was dying," Merlin gasped. "It should've worked."

"It didn't," Arthur repeated. "The sight of you sickens me. Your voice sickens me. Go and never return."

"But Arthur..."

"I said go, before I change my mind. If you return, your penalty is death."

Merlin stared at Arthur. Tears fell down as his face as he staggered from the room. His whole world had just crumbled before him and Merlin honestly didn't know what he was going to do. The destiny he'd worked so hard to fulfill had just ended and it was all his fault.


	5. The Truth

On the evening after the coronation two days later, Gaius knocked upon the door that lead to Arthur's chambers. Within his gnarled hands was a book and an amulet. A worried expression was upon his face. This had been the first time Arthur had seen Gaius since Uther's death. Arthur couldn't blame Gaius for not coming around. He had, after all, banished Merlin.

"Come in," muttered Arthur as he looked up from the paperwork on his desk. "Gaius…" He looked back down. The new King found he couldn't look the old man in the eye. Arthur couldn't look at himself when he passed a mirror. His face made him sick. Although he hadn't admitted out loud, Arthur knew banishing Merlin had been a terrible mistake. His pride was preventing him from confessing this (even to himself.

"Sire," said Gaius. His voice low and tinged with worry. He didn't move from the doorframe. The physician just stood there, as if waiting for a better invitation to come in.

"Are you coming in, Gaius? I am quite busy," grumbled Arthur as he stifled a yawn.

"Of course," said the older man. Slowly, he came into the room. When he reached the desk, he lay a medallion on the table.

"What is that," the King asked as he stared at it. "Why have you brought it to me?"

"So, you've never seen this before," demanded the doctor. His tone both filled with worry and tinged with sharpness.

Arthur shook his head. "Of course not! Why would I ask you what it was if I had? That does not make any sense. Where did you find it?"

"I was reexamining your father and I noticed the pendent on him."

"So, what's the big deal? My father had a necklace that I happened to not recognize, so what? He has many things I don't recognize. It doesn't mean anything."

"I suppose not, however, it's design looked familiar. I began looking through my books and I found this," Gaius said. He laid the book on the table and pointed to a drawing that looked exactly like the pendant lying next to the tome.

"They look identical. What is it, Gaius? Is it magic?"

Sadly, the old man nodded. "It is," Gaius whispered. "It's an amulet forged with dark magic. It is used to counteract a healing spell and then make things ten times worse."

"Who would've done that?"

"Who do you think?"

"Morgana…" Arthur whispered, to which Gaius nodded. "But, why? And, does that mean that Merlin's spell should've worked?"

"Only Morgana knows why she does what she does. And yes, it does mean it should've worked," Gaius concurred. His voice was filled with even more worry.

"What does that mean for Merlin? Have I made a terrible mistake?"

"I'm afraid you may have, sire. You see, with magic there's a balance. One person dies to let another live…"

"And he would've been the one to die, correct?"

"Perhaps Merlin might've."

Arthur stood. "I need to find him! If he's hurt…" the King said, but he trailed off. Grabbing his sword and cloak, Arthur left his room and hurried to the stables.

Without even saddling his horse, he rode from the building and out of Camelot. Arthur pressed his mare hard and did not stop (or even slow) until he reached Ealdor in the middle of the next day. That was the only place Arthur could think that Merlin would go. It made sense to him. Arthur just hoped his hunch was true.

He took a moment to compose himself before walking up to Hunith's home. He raised a fist and knocked on the door. Arthur stepped back and waited. After a minute, there was no answer. He raised his hand again and knocked a second time. Moments later, Hunith came to the door. In her arms was a basket of wet laundry.

"Arthur, sire, what a surprise! Is everything all right? Is Merlin with you," she asked.

The King's mouth went dry. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "You mean, Merlin isn't here," asked Arthur. "I thought that he might be."

"Why? What has happened?"

"It's a long story."

Hunith frowned at the man. "Is he in trouble?"

"Perhaps and it's all my fault."

"I'm sure you're not to blame," said Hunith in a soft voice. "You're his best friend. You wouldn't let anything happen to him and he wouldn't let anything happen to you."

"But it is. I sent him away. I **banished** him."

Hunith took a step back. She dropped the laundry on the floor. "You what? Why?"

"I banished him. He attempted to heal my father. It didn't work. My father's died," whispered Arthur.

"I see," said Hunith. Her lips were pressed into a tight line. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to find him and beg for forgiveness. What I did was wrong."

"Yes," Hunith agreed with a nod. "Sire, please, find my Merlin and make sure he's safe and sound."

"Don't worry, I will. I had better go," Arthur whispered. He turned on his heel and headed away from the home. Arthur mounted and began to ride back to Camelot just as hard and fast as he had going to Ealdor. He felt his face drain of color as he pondered the what if's. What if Merlin was dead? What if he lay on the side of the road, injured? What if he'd been captured? None of those circumstances sat well with him. He hoped none of them were true. However, Arthur had a feeling one of them was.

_"Arthur_," called someone in head of Arthur. It was a soft and feminine voice. _"Arthur, come to me. I can help_."

The voice made Arthur pull on the reins of the horse. "Hello? Who are you? Where are you," demanded the King as he dismounted the sweating beast.

_"Arthur, come to me. I can help_," she said gently.

"Where are you?" Arthur asked. "Who are you? I don't see you!"

_"Follow my voice. Come to me, Arthur and you will see_," the woman said in an alluring voice. _"There is little time. Come to me. Please. Or your friend will not make it."_

Arthur's felt his face drain even more. Taking a deep breath, he headed to the lake. He had no idea what he'd face and that scared him.


	6. Remember

Arthur wasn't exactly sure where he was going. He didn't know how long he'd be riding. He also didn't know who he'd meet. _At least I know why and that's a start_, thought the new King. _Or do I? What if this is a trap?_

Arthur realized this could be a trick and that no one had his servant, Merlin, thus he was being lured to his death. The young man wasn't ready to call him his friend, at least not openly. He was too proud. However, on the off chance this wasn't trickery and Merlin was indeed in terrible danger, Arthur would never forgive himself for going to help the warlock.

"_You can stop riding now, Arthur,"_ said the same woman's voice.

Arthur was all too happy to oblige. He dismounted and led the horse to the water. With the water crashing around his feet, the blonde-haired man stopped and looked around. He appeared to be alone with his horse and the water. Although, Arthur couldn't see much. It was foggy and cloudy, although both were trying to break; fine rays of sun were peaking through the clouds. "Where are you," asked Arthur. His voice was curt and sharp. "Where's Merlin?"

"_I didn't say your journey was done," _replied the woman. There was a hint of annoyance in her voice. _"You're journey isn't quite done_."

"I see," muttered Arthur, even though he apparently didn't. The new King frowned and continued to glance around him. "Where do I go? What do I do?"

As if the world had heard his plea, the clouds broke and the fog began to clear as stronger rays of sun shined down on the earth and water. At the diamond-like brilliance of the water, Arthur blinked and shielded his eyes with his gloved hand. Looming in the center of the massive lake was an island with ruins sitting atop it.

"The Isle of the Blessed," whispered Arthur. He, his knights, and Merlin had gone there all too recently. It was there, Lancelot had sacrificed his life. It was there, Arthur would apparently save Merlin.

After tying his horse to a sturdy tree with grasses growing around it, Arthur made his way to the boat. Silently, he climbed into the boat and as if by magic (probably by magic) it sailed to the island. The ride was long and by the time the boat reached the shore, Arthur was cold, damp, and stiff. With a groan and might stretch, he made it up the steps of the ruins.

Within the courtyard of the area, where the sacrificial table perched, was an unnervingly beautiful woman. Her silvery, white hair shimmered ethereally. "Hello Arthur," said the woman. Her voice melodic as her pink lips turned upwards into a dainty smile that spread over her alabaster skin. In the sunlight, her ice blue eyes sparkled mischievously.

"Who are you? What are you?"

"You may call me Áine. I am a Tuatha Dé Danann, a goddess of light and life," she explained as she walked over to Arthur. Her iridescent blue and purple gossamer dress flowed around her body and hugged Aine's curves delectably.

"Where is Merlin?"

The woman's eyes dart around the room. "He is here, but I do not have him. He is being hidden by a Fomhóire, a spirit of night and… _death_."

Arthur paled at the news. "Why does this being want him?"

Áine crossed her arms over her chest. Her hair fluttered over her shoulders. "The spell Merlin used to save your father did work. However, the magic was intercepted so the spell used backfired. Even though your father left this world, there was a need to keep the balance."

"Why? I don't understand."

"Why?" echoed Áine. "The spell would've worked if things hadn't gone amiss. It did work, for a brief second, therefore there was a call for a sacrifice. There must be a balance and it was Merlin who would be the one to make things right, at least in the eyes of the Fomhóire it must happen."

"So he has to die?"

"No. You can save him. There is still time."

"How?"

"You'll find out."

Arthur nodded. As he did, he nodded a little bit. "Did Merlin know he'd be the sacrifice when he tried to save my father?" the new King asked.

Áine shrugged. "This is not for me to know or to tell you. Only Merlin knows the answer to that question. You will have to ask him yourself when you find him," she replied. "You must hurry. He is here, somewhere. I do not know where he is, but even if I did, I could not tell you where he was because by telling you, the point of the quest would be futile. You _must_ find him. He is, I will tell you, in trouble – terrible trouble," the Tuatha Dé Danann told the blonde-haired man in a grave voice.

"What happens if I don't?"

"Albion will fall and the golden age of Camelot will never arrive. Your destiny will never be fulfilled, nor will anyone else's. Without him, the future will be bleak," she said. "But, with that point, without your, the future will be bleak and the destiny of all will not happen. You and he are two sides of the same coin. Remember that."

A wind picked up and blew Arthur's hair and cape. He could swear mixing with the howl of the gust, was a cry of dismay, a cry of pain. And then, there was a laugh – a cold and cruel cackle that sent cold chills running up and down Arthur's spine. Wide-eyed, he looked at Áine. "What was that," whispered the man.

Áine looked just as scared as Arthur felt. She wrapped her arms around her thin arms and shivered. "It was Halwn, the Fomhóire," the spirit replied. Her voice tense. "You _must _go now. Merlin is in far more danger than I thought. He does not have long. Hurry now! Hurry."

The new King tensed his jaw as he nodded. "I won't fail," Arthur promised. Taking a deep breath, he headed into the ruins.


	7. Sweet Words

**First of all, sorry for taking so long to update! I was a bit stuck as to what to do or how much to put in this chapter. Even as I wrote this part, I had no idea what would happen. I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think and who or what Arthur should face next!**

As Arthur entered, he looked around the cold and gray room. The new King found himself in a massive dining hall, as large and spacious as the one back at his castle. The space was decked for a massive party – candelabras (which surely had been a gleaming gold in their glory) sat on the carved tables along with goblets, bowls of fruit, (which had shivered long ago), silverware, and gold-rimmed plates. Underneath it all was moth-eaten table runners in a dirty plum cover. The skeletons of men and women sat at the table. Their skulls were off to one side, as if asleep. And everything, everything, was coated in thick layers of dust and cobwebs.

From the opposite end of the room, came a woman. A twisted smile stretched across her face. "Hello, Arthur," she purred in a gentle voice. "No one is here to protect you now, is there?"

"Lady Helen," asked the King. His lip curled up and his eyebrow arched in a _huh?_ expression. "Is that you?"

The woman laughed as she rested her hands on her canary-yellow dress. "If you wish me to be that, yes," she replied. After taking a deep breath, the woman spread her arms and began to sing. It started off in a soft, quiet tone, and Arthur didn't quite understand the words. However, her voice slowly grew louder and clearer,

"_Your life waxes and wanes_

_Like the glory of the sunlit waves._

_There are highs and lows_

_That curve around the mountains and bluffs of the heart._

_Oh low, woe is me_

_What did I do to deserve thee?_

_Oh low, woe is me_

_What did I do to deserve thee?_

_Oh low, woe is me_

_Oh low, woe is me_

_What did I do to deserve thee?_

_Oh low, woe is me_

_What did I do to deserve thee?_

_Oh low, woe is me."_

Arthur found that he was terribly tired. He blinked, hard and long as he stumbled through the room towards her. To keep himself upright, he rested a hand upon the table. And then he remembered. It was just like the first time he saved him – when his father had made Merlin his servant. "Oh, no you don't!" he shouted with much force.

"_Your life is great,_

_But you can fall so suddenly._

_There is good and bad_

_Within the soul._

_How to resist, when doth it insists?_

_O! is there the strength_

_to resist, when doth it insists?_

_How to resists? It insists." _

_How to resist, when doth it insists?_

_O! is there the strength_

_to resist, when doth it insists?_

_How to resists? It insists." _

Arthur was practically asleep on his feet. His reached up and slapped himself. "Ow…Must stay awake, for Merlin's sake," whispered Arthur as he pressed his lips together and gritted his teeth. He drew his sword as he looked around the filthy dining hall. The new King had to figure out how to stop her before she started singing her third set of verse and chorus.

"But, oh…oh how it all can change," sang the faux lady Helen as she came even nearer to Arthur. She was standing right under the chandelier.

A smirk spread over Arthur's face. "Perfect," whispered the blonde-haired man. He stared at the lighting fixture and followed its tether to the wall. Yawning and fighting sleep, he hurried to where the rope ended. He sliced through the chord and watched, with a smug expression on his face, as it fell on the singer and flattened her.

Lady Helen raised herself with her arms. She stared directly into Arthur's eyes. Coldness and hatred towards the King gleamed within her dark eyes. "You stopped me, but you won't get him. You're going to be too late and there's nothing you can do about it. You made a mistake and now you must live with it, for all eternity," growled the woman as her arms gave way and she plopped onto the ground.

Arthur stared at the still form of the Lady Helen (or at least, the being that looked like her). His lips were turned down into a frown. "You want to bet? I might have made a mistake, but I** am** going to fix it. I might have disserted him now, but I have come for him. I **am** going to bring him home – alive. I will **not** let anything else happen to him," promised Arthur with a nod. "I can't."

Taking a deep breath, he hurried through the dining hall. Now that the singer was no longer alive and singing her charismatic song, Arthur found he was awake and could actually run instead of trudging and stumbling along haphazardly. The King paused at the door and looked back at where the chandelier had fallen. The woman was no longer there. It was as if she'd never existed. "What the…" he whispered. Shaking his head, Arthur planted a hand on the rusty doorknob. He did not want to think about where the woman had gone or what had happened. Had she even been alive or had that been just sort of wayward spirit? He would never know and frankly, that was just fine with that. Thinking about it even gave him a headache. There was only so much magic and sorcery he could take all at once. Besides, Arthur needed to focus on the task at hand – saving Merlin, getting him out of here, and back to Camelot, where he would apologize for being the clotpole the warlock often claimed he was – and so he did not want to use his precious energy or brain cells on wondering if the singer, Lady Helen was alive or not.

Facing the door, he turned the knob, which fell off in his hand. Looking around sheepishly, Arthur dropped it on the ground. He hoped the spirits of these ruins wouldn't notice. Hearing a tortured scream and a manic laugh, the King hurried onwards. _Don't worry, Merlin, I'm coming_, thought Arthur. _Just hold on. Please, hold on._


	8. Lovers

After walking through a stone hallway that was crumbling under the ivy that coated and clung to the crevasses and fissures, Arthur entered what appeared to be a bedroom. It was too dark to make out any distinct shapes. With each echoing footstep, Arthur felt his way through the dusty and deserted room.

His fingers left lines in the stone dust that covered the armoire near the rotting wooden door. As he explored the piece, Arthur's fingertips caught on carvings of ivy, lions, dragons, and rooks. The King reeled as he moved away from the piece. He had expected to feel more carving, but his hand only grasped the air.

Disgruntled, Arthur shuffled deeper into the chamber. His arms were outstretched and his brow was furrowed as he squinted into the inpenatrable darkness. Bumping into a round table, Arthur found himself exploring yet another surface. There was a game board in the middle of it. When the Kig picked up one of the pieces that sat on the board, Arthur discovered it was a chess set. "Hmm," muttered Arthur as sat it back in its station on the board.

There was more bare space as he moved from the gaming table, but soon Arthur's legs met the four-poster bed. He knew he'd run into it sooner rather than later, but due to the inky blackness, his depth perception was distorted and so Arthur reached it in less time than he had anticipated.

Right in front of the bed was a dust-covered mirror. The film of grime was thin and so Arthur could see his reflection. As the King stared at his haggard face, another face was reflected in the mirror.

"Hello, Arthur," said the woman as she came over to Arthur's side. She looked over at the King with a pleasant smile on her face. In the darkness, her ivory skin and golden dress seemed to glow.

Arthur turned and faced the woman. "Sophia," said the King. His voice cracked ash is eyebrows arched high and touched his hairline.

"So you remember me," Sophia said. She took his hand and then she wrapped her thin fingers around his muscular ones. "You know, it's good to see you. I forgot how handsome you were."

"Of course I do! We almost married," exclaimed the King. There was a slight pained tone to his voice.

"Yes, we did. But, that's in the past. It was years ago," purred the woman. She reached up with her free hand. With one, elegant finger, she caressed his cheek and then his cheek.

It made Arthur shiver with pleasure. "Please, stop," he moaned. The King's stomach hardened. "This isn't right."

"Why? You're not married. I'm not married. We were to marry," cooed Sophia as she pressed a finger against Arthur's lips.

Even as Arthur kissed the finger pressed against his lips, he protested. "I can't. Merlin..." he whispered with a shake of his head.

"Yes, you can," the woman replied. She dropped her hand away from his lips and rested her hand on the back of Arthur's neck. Sophia pulled herself so close to the King that her hips brushed against his. Sophia looked up at the King and she locked her gaze with his. "Merlin will be fine. He's not your responsibility."

"Not my responsibility," muttered Arthur in a dazed voice.

"That's right. He's not your responsibility," repeated Sophia as her eyes glow red. Squeezing the King's hand, she pulled him to the bed. "It's just us."

"Always and forever," confirmed Arthur. He wrapped his arms around her waist and laid her on the bed. Straddling her, he stared down at the _goddess_ as he hiked her skirt up and she undid his breeches. With short gasps, the King breathed in and out. His face and ears flush with vigor. His blue eyes widen and the dark pupils dilate.

Sophia wrapped her arms around his sinewy waist. With force, the woman pulled him closer so that she could feel his warm breath on her thin neck and he could fill her tepid breaths on his neck. As their bodies press together, she can feel his heartbeat against her squished chest. Sophia draws Arthur closer and locks her lips with his. Lightly, the woman bits down on his lower lip and with pleasure, the King moans.

"Oh, yes," squeals Sophia with delight. A wild cry escapes as she kisses him with the passion of a mating praying mantis. "You're mine!" She laughs.

A look of momentary confusing crosses Arthur's face. There's a moment of recognition. However, the King is drawn back into the throes of passion. It only lasts a minute or two more when a different scream rips through the air.

It's pain filled and every syllable he cries drips with fear. "HELP," Merlin wails. His voice cracks from the length and volume of the scream, but it's drowned out by the same manic laugh.

"There's no one to help you now, Emrys," hisses the stranger. "Not your king, not Gaius, no one! You're mine."

"Over my dead body," growls Arthur. He dismounts Sophia and pulls his trousers up.

"Come on, Arthur, come back to bed," says the woman as she sits up and pats a spot beside her.

"My friend needs me. Over my dead body will I rejoin you," replies the King.

She stands and walks over to him. "As you wish," Sophia whispers. The woman looks him in her eyes and her eyes, as well as Arthur's, turn red. "Do you wish to find your friend?"

"Yes," mutters Arthur. His head cocks to one side.

"Then, follow me. I know where he is," the woman with honey-blonde hair says. She heads towards the double doors at the balcony. Opening them, Sophia exits with Arthur on her heels. Stepping aside, she watches as he continues forward. "He's just on the other side of the railing."

Arthur nods. Grabbing it, he heaves himself up. He is just about to leap. One foot was in midair when Merlin's screams reached his ears again. The King blinks and a panicked look crosses his face. Miles below him were crashing waves. Shaking, he starts to get down, but Sophia pushes him. He loses his balance and for a moment, he is air bound. Before plummeting to the choppy waters below him, he grabs hold of the railing and clings to it for dear life.

Above him, Sophia's face looms. "You'll never get him, Arthur Pendragon," she tells the King. Turning, the woman leaves Arthur to the fates.

***Cue melodramatic music* It's a cliffhanger – literally and in both ways! I think the end was inspired by 'Dark Shadows'. I'm sorry for leaving you all hanging, but it felt like the perfect way to end this chapter. I'm also sorry for it being so rough. I didn't aim for it to be quite that graphic when I started. I hoped you liked it. Please R&R! The next chapter will be up soon. In the meantime, please check out my new Merlin fanfic, 'Aberration of a Warlock'. **


	9. Help Me

The handrail was slick. His fingers kept slipping due to the wet. Arthur didn't know if he would be able to heave himself over the rail and to the safety of the balcony it lined. At one point, as he heaved and attempted to pull his body upwards, one hand slid off the rail, thus the King was holding on by one hand.

When he heard the desperate screams of his friend, a new sense of determination flared in his chest. He _would_ get to safety. He _would_ get to Merlin. There was no question about it – end of story. With determination, he set just jaw and hardened his gaze. With a grunt, Arthur pushed himself up and over the handrail. Sliding over the edge, he sat down on the ground and leaned his head against stone. Arthur closed his eyes and took in a few deep breaths. Another cry filled the air. It made Arthur jump up. "I'm coming," he declared as he ran through the bedroom and back into the hall.

Racing through the ruined castle, he only stopped when he reached a broken greenhouse. Arthur could tell Merlin was close – the wails were more pronounced and the King could even make out a few words. "No…won't," Merlin rasped between screaming.

"Where are you," Arthur shouted. No one answered him. He didn't expect them too. Hearing a clatter, Arthur turned. The King's eyes widen. "Not again."

Surrounding him were a half a dozen skeleton knights. These six dead soldiers were ready to fight him. It was just like last time, except Arthur had no back up – there were no other knights to help him. As one of the skeletons swung at him, he blocked the move and then jabbed forwards. It became caught in his ribcage and so he pulled it upwards and outwards. A rib fell to the ground. Yanking the blade out of the skeleton, the blonde-haired King whirled around and sliced through another skeleton. He cut it in half, but the upper part continued to try to fight him. It cut at his ankles and actually went through his boot. Arthur cried out as he felt the blood well in his boots, which he paid no heed. He felt lucky that his foot was still attached to the rest of his body.

Sprinting forward, he fought them. Arthur knew he'd not win this fight. If it was like last time, they would not stop until he was death. Therefore, the King hoped to get out of the greenhouse alive – at least that was his plan. Once in the safety of the rest of the ruins, he would bar them in (somehow) and then continue to search for his obviously hurt and scared manservant. Near the door, a skeleton got in front of him. It marched forward, holding the sword in both boney hands, swinging the blade.

Arthur ducked as the knife nearly hit him in the side. He jumped up and swung at the skeleton. It also ducked. The King was not prepared for that move and his sword continued cutting through the air until it hit a wooden object. Arthur sliced through the thing, which he realized was a staff of some sort. Feeling a sword against his back, the King yelped with pain and trained knight turned. There was the skeleton, at least one of them.

It swung at Arthur again, but the King blocked the move with a swift, albeit slightly stiff, swipe of the blade. He cut it in two. In front of his wide eyes, the thing crumbled to the ground as if the bones were from a body that had died long ago. "Wow…cool," said Arthur with a satisfied nod.

Another of the skeletons charged at Arthur. He was prepared. Swinging his majestic sword, Excalibur, back, the King brought it forward and decapitated this skeleton. The bones fell into a heap at his feet.

"Not very bright things, are they," muttered Arthur as he glanced at the sky. Who he spoke to, Arthur didn't know. He just felt like talking. Two more of the skeleton army men headed straight for him. He was ready. One of them, Arthur kicked in the knee while he sliced through another's hips. Again, these skeletons fell into a pile in front of him.

There were only three left. As Arthur went to fight the two full skeletons, he stepped on the half-skeleton soldier. His foot sunk through the bone with a satisfied crunch. Shaking off the skull from his foot, he lost his balance and collided with a pillar that used to hold up part of the greenhouse. It didn't anymore and Arthur found himself falling to the ground as he clung for deer life to the pole. After a second or two, it landed on top of the remaining skeleton warriors. During the descent, he'd closed his eyes and so once the dust had cleared, he slowly opened them again as he let go of the pillar and stood.

Arthur examined the mess before him and then he left the greenhouse. "Arthur - six… skeletons – zero. The good guy wins again," muttered Arthur as he strolled slowly along. He hastened when he heard another scream from Merlin. This time, Arthur was sure he heard the young man scream, "Help me!"

"I'm coming, Merlin. Just hold on a little more. Please, hold on," cried Arthur as he ran to the other end of the castle. He didn't know where he was going, but he figured this place would lead him to the place. Arthur kept trying the knobs of the doors that lined the hallway, but every singles one of them was locked. Even though he hadn't had luck finding an open door, Arthur did not give up. He wasn't about to leave this place without Merlin.

Halting at the end of the hall, he stared at the double doors that faced him. He pulled the handles and miraculously, the door opened. "You," said Arthur as he stared at the figure in front of him.


	10. Defeat

"Hello, Arthur. I did not think I would see you here," said the Callieach. She looked over his shoulder at the hall before him. "I see you have defeated my minions." The hag laughed a little. It was a cold and heartless sound.

"Where's Merlin." Arthur demanded as he sheathed the sword Excalibur and then crossed his arms over his chest to try to ward off some of the cold.

"Emrys is over there," replied the gray-skinned woman. She pointed one, gnarled finger towards a shivering figure who lay on his side on the ground. Every so often, a broken sob or moan would escape his lips.

"His name is Merlin," growled the King as he stored forward. He stopped when the Callieach put her hand out. "What do you want? I need to see to him. He's obviously hurt. He needs me."

"Emrys can wait a minute more. You're not done with your tasks. Samhain Eve is nearly upon us. The veil will open and you must stop it."

"You want me to sacrifice myself for this..." Arthur muttered in a grave voice. It was not a question. Arthur knew the answer to his question and head prepared to face this event head on.

"You were willing once. Why not now?" asked the woman who was draped in heavy black and ash gray robes, skirts, and dresses.

"I still am," he replied. The young man's voice rose as he exclaimed the last word. "Do not question my intent. I will do what I must to save my friend. If I am saving my kingdom from the dorocha then I am doing an even better service."

"Do you know what is to be done? Are you willing?" she asked as she stared at Arthur with a sad expression on her face. The Callieach's lips turn downwards and a haunted look shined him her dark eyes that had bags sagging under them. Her voice was regal as she said her words with an even tone.

"Yes, I am," replied the King.

"Ah, but it is not your time. What now will you do? Who will be your sacrifice for Emrys?"

"You," said Arthur. He spoke with firmness and with power. "And his name is Merlin!"

"Emrys has more than one name. Merlin is but one of them," replied the Callieach. She smiled thinly at Arthur. His words seemed to bemuse her. "But, yes, I will be your sacrifice."

Before the hag could change her mind, Arthur ran forward. Taking the woman by the shoulders, he shoved her through the ripping veil. Watching the fabric of life and death close, he shivered and rubbed his eyes. Arthur wasn't sure if he truly believed what he had just seen and experienced. What had just happened (from the first moment here up until now) seemed so surreal. When Merlin moaned weakly, Arthur tore his attention away from the supernatural event and raced over to his servant.

He knelt beside the warlock and examined him from head to foot. Merlin's face was a dusky gray. His lips were a pale purple and there were deep circles around his sunken eyes. Tearing his gaze away from the warlock's face, he gawked at the young man's abdomen. Right where his father's wound had been was a bloody spot.

Pressing a hand against the wound, Arthur realized Merlin was still bleeding. He needed to get him back to Gaius and fast. Arthur did not know how much time they had left, but Arthur had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't very long. As the King lifted Merlin from the ground and cradled the body close, the warlock opened his eyes and stared at his master.

"I'm sorry. It should've worked," whispered Merlin. His voice was faint and very weak. When he coughed, his brow furrowed in apparent pain. The man closed his eyes and leaned his head against Arthur's chest.

To be frank, Arthur was pleased the young man before him had closed his eyes. The glassy and lifeless look that clouded the usually bright and lively eyes had been unnerving. It was as if Merlin was staring at something far away. It was something that Arthur could see. A look of resignation had settled into those eyes as well as the lines of his face. It seemed, to Arthur, that Merlin knew he could die here and had come to terms with that fact. The King did not like seeing that expression on his servant's face.

"It's my fault. I am the one who should be sorry. Now, I want you to rest. We can talk later. Right now, all you have to do is rest," Arthur demanded in a quiet voice. "This is an order. I'm your King. You have to listen to me."

Tiredly, the corners of Merlin's lips turn upwards in an attempt of a smile. It faded after only a moment or two. "Prat," the warlock mouthed.

"Idiot," replied Arthur with his own slight smile. He was about ready to life Merlin from the cold floor of the ruin, when a wind picked up. The King wrapped his arms around the wounded warlock and shielded him with his body.

"What do you think you're doing," asked a woman. Her voice was cold and hard as a grave. It made Arthur look up.

Before him was a woman with long, dark hair, twisted and bound. She cloaked herself in a black, gauzy dress that hugged her curves. Set into her pale face, were inky black eyes and full-red lips. The woman had a heartless air about her.

"Who are you?" demanded Arthur as he pulled Merlin closer to him.

"What's it to you?" she asked, stepping forward.

"Everything…"

"And nothing," she said, circling the two of them. "My name is Zilla and you've taken my prize."

"You're the Fomhóire, aren't you?"

"You're a smart one. Yes, I am. Now, I'd like the little warlock. You're free to go."

"I'm not leaving without him."

"Oh really?" Zilla said. Her words were tinged with laughter.

"Really. Let me get him to back to Gaius and then you can have me. You can do whatever you want with me"

"Oooh, very well," she replied after thinking about the deal for a moment. "I want your word…in blood."

Arthur gulped. He then nodded. Watching the woman come towards he, the King lowered Merlin back to the ground and then took off his glove (which he laid beside him).

From a pocket in her dress, Zilla withdrew a thin dagger and parchment. The woman grabbed the King's wrist and drew it up closer to her. With the blade, she poked Arthur's finger until it bled.

Arthur stared at the blood as if bubbled on his fingertip. He turned it over and began to write – A-R-T…. Before he could finish his first name, there was a scream.

"Acwele!" Merlin shouted. His eyes were wide open. For a moment, the flashed gold and Zilla screamed as her body was encompassed with light. When the brightness faded, she was gone.

"What did you do," asked a panicked King. He looked down at Merlin just in time to see his eyes fade. The warlock made a slight whimpering sound as he eyes rolled back in his head. With eyelids closing, he slumped to the ground and lay there – lifeless.


	11. Finally Home

The sun had just risen over the hills and had coated the castle in its glorious light when Arthur, along with the gravely injured Merlin rode through the gates of Camelot. One hand was clasped around the warlock's midsection like a vice while the other hand held onto the reins.

For the most part of the treacherously long journey from the Isle of the Blessed back to Camelot, Arthur had kept his eyes upwards so that he looked between the ears of his steed. He couldn't bear to look at his servant. The few times he had, his stomach had churned uncomfortably. Through the ride, Merlin had grown paler and paler as he lost more and more blood and that was saying something. The warlock had a naturally pale complexion as it was. In addition, as they rode home, his breathing had gone shallower and Arthur did not like that one bit. The fact the warlock hadn't opened his eyes, made any sound, and was still breathing didn't seem like a good thing either.

The sight of the Physician's quarters was a godsend. He had never been happier to see a place than right then. Sliding off his horse, he lowered the unconscious warlock from the mount. Cradling him beneath the knees and back, Arthur sagged under the weight. With teeth gritted in determination, Arthur headed to the door as quickly as he was able. Shifting the warlock, Arthur pounded on the door. "Gaius! Gaius, open up," screamed the King in a very uncouth tone.

He heard scurrying and the door opened. The face of a very tired and worried Gaius greeted him. "Arthur," he exclaimed. Seeing Merlin, the physician stepped aside. "Come in! Come in! I need to examine him."

Arthur entered the room and then he laid the unmoving man on the examining table. Even though he removed the weight from his arms, his shoulders sagged. He was exhausted from both the activities of the day and the stress of his friends state.

"It's all my fault. I never should've…I'm sorry," Arthur stammered out.

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," said Gaius as he finished looking over his ward's head, arms, and legs. He then moved to remove the shirt, which stuck to the dried blood."It's Merlin." Grabbing a cloth, Gaius dipped it in some warm water. Carefully, he washed the blood away and then began to mix up a poultice to slather on the wound.

"Will he be all right, Gaius? Please, tell me," Arthur demanded as he sat down on a bench and rested his heavy head in his hands. "Gaius? I know it's bad….but how bad?"

"I honestly don't know. If Merlin lasts the night, he should make a recovery. It will take time though," Gaius said.

"What happened exactly?"

"I should be asking you that question, Sire."

"_Gaius_," Arthur groaned. There was an annoyance as his voice as he rolled his eyes. "Just tell me why he has the same wound as my father did."

"Well, sir, I found that amulet of Morgana's around Uther's neck. When Merlin attempted to heal him, the wound was transferred to him. Merlin's spell should've worked, if it hadn't been for the amulet. The injury is actually much worse than the one your father received because of the medallion, which makes any wound 10 times as bad as it was," explained Gaius. His voice was sad. "However, Merlin's strong. If anyone can live through this he can."

Arthur nodded as he stood. For a few minutes, he paced. "It's all my fault. I should've never asked him to try to heal my father," the King said.

"I think Merlin had it in his mind to heal him before you asked. Actually, I know. We talked about it, extensively. He knew the risks," Gaius explained as he slathered the cream on Merlin's wound.

"He knew he'd die?" he asked. His voice rose sharply as his blue eyes widen. "Oh, God…I feel horrible."

"Yes, he did. You didn't know. Don't beat yourself up over what has happened," the physician remarked and then he wrapped Merlin's torso with layers of gauze. "Merlin would not want you to do it."

Arthur nodded as he stopped pacing. The King sat down beside Merlin and took one of his pale and cold hands in his warm ones. Lightly, he rubbed it so that he might stimulate the blood.

"So, what happened over there?" Gaius asked as he rinsed his hands. He poured Arthur a glass of water and filled a bowl with stew, which he sat beside the King.

"It was as if I had relieved the last five years of my life, Gaius, but without Merlin's aid. I defeated the Lady Helena. I was nearly defeated by Sophia. I fought the skeleton army, well six of them. And I met the Callieach again," Arthur explained in a quiet voice.

"My, my, what a time you had. Eat and drink and then you need to rest," Gaius said. "That is doctor's orders too."

The King couldn't help but smirk a little as he ate the stew. Finishing the hearty meal, Arthur leaned back and fell asleep in his chair. He didn't wake for several hours. In fact, it was night when he awoke.

What had roused him from his sleep, he did not know. With blurry eyes, the King looked around. Then, he heard a slight moan and looked towards the bed. Merlin's eyes were open to half-slits as he stared at the King.

"Are are you feeling," asked Arthur.

"Oh, just fine," said Merlin with a little bit if sarcasm. He smiled at Arthur. "Thank you."

Arthur sighed after reaching over and patting the top of Merlin's hand. "Don't mention it. Besides, where else am I going to find a useless servant to polish my armor, muck out the stables, and shine my shoes," asked the King.

This made Merlin laugh a little. "Ow, don't make me laugh, please," the warlock said, yawning.

"Go to sleep, Merlin," Arthur said. However, the man did not hear him because he had already fallen back into the land of nod.


	12. Epilogue

**Author's Note: Thank you all for reading this fanfic! As of 4:44 PM EST on May 31, 2012, 7,445 people have ready this story. I can't believe it. I hope you all have enjoyed reading this story. Please check out 'Aberration of a Warlock' – my newest Merlin fanfic – if you will. OK, now, on with this chapter – the last chapter of 'Winds of Change'.**

Three months had passed since Arthur and Merlin's adventure at the Isle of the Blessed. Things were better, at least Merlin thought. Now that the King knew the truth about Merlin, and had come to terms with the fact his best friend and warlock was a servant, Arthur had lifted the ban on magic. The only people persecuted for their craft were those who committed a crime (as it should be).

It had taken Merlin all three months to fully heal. The wound had closed up nicely in a matter of two weeks, but regaining blood, strength, and energy had taken much longer. After a full six weeks, Gaius had allowed Merlin do light weight work, like shining boots, getting clothes, and dusting. By his second month of recuperation, he was allowed to get Arthur's meals and polish armor along with the dusting and boot cleaning. It was only in this third month that Gaius deemed him well enough to go out hunting and draw baths as well as the other work. The physician still didn't think it was wise for Merlin to carry water or muck out the horse stalls and so a different servant did those chores.

For some reason, Arthur had declared that he wanted to go hunting, even though it was snowing a little bit with Merlin. The warlock didn't have a clue why, but he went along with it anyway. And, so King and servant rode through the woods of Camelot. The ground was lightly dusted with snow like a wedding cookie and everything sparkled in the morning light. The scenery was dazzling.

Seeing a stag, Arthur raised his bow and arrow. Aiming, he fired. The arrow whizzed through the air and struck the beast. It took a step and then another; then the deer fell to the ground – dead.

Pleased, Arthur grinning as he hopped off his horse. Shoving the reins into one of Merlin's gloved hands, he ran over to the fallen animal. Pulling out his bone knife, Arthur began to saw off the antlers. He might have been Prince and he might be King now, but Arthur knew how to prepare a deer. He actually liked doing the manual labor of the job. It was one of the few times he felt… _normal_.

Merlin didn't come to help. He could not stomach the disemboweling and dissection of a deer. Besides, Gaius still did not want him lifting heavy things. The warlock figured a deer carcass would be put in the category of 'heavy things'. Even though he didn't like playing with dead things, I.E. skinning them and cutting antlers off of them, Merlin was still bored and he really wished he had something (almost anything) to do besides hold onto the reigns of Arthur's chestnut horse, who was very anxious at the moment.

Seeing a light that glowed blue, Merlin cocked his head. It floated towards him and slowly the lights separated to become two orbs. They lowered themselves to the ground and then in a blink of an eye, two humanoid forms appeared.

"Arthur, do you see what I see," asked the warlock as he looked over at the King.

The blonde-haired ruler had stood. He held his bone knife at his side. His mouth dropped open wide and his eyebrows arched so that they touched his eyebrows. "Yeah," he breathed.

The woman, honey-blonde haired and pale faced, held the hand of a boy of seven or eight years of age. He had bright blue eyes and pure blonde hair that framed his round face. Like his mother, he wore golden colored clothes.

"Hello Arthur. Meet your son, Artair. I named him after you," Sophia said.

"How is this possible? It's only been three months."

"I'm a sidhe. Our growth period is speedy, even though we live for a very long time," she explained. Sophia looked over at Merlin and smiled. "I see you are well. You have a very stubborn friend on your hands. I could hardly pull him from his task."

Merlin's mouth had dropped open. "How is it possible? I-I killed you and your father. I watched you explode before my very eyes," asked the warlock.

"I thought you might ask me that. Sidhe's don't die – easily. You merely temporarily destroyed my essence. But, I regrew and in fact I'm stronger than ever. I'm not mad, though. You were just doing what you had to do to save your friend."

"Uh, I'm glad," stammered Merlin.

"We must go now. Because of you, Arthur, I was allowed back into Avalon. Thank you," purred Sophia. "Say good bye Artair." She pushed the child towards Arthur. "Go on."

The young boy ran over to Arthur. He wrapped his arms around the King's waist and squeezed. After a moment, the child let go. He then went back to his mother.

"Can't he…can't he stay at the castle with me," asked Arthur. He didn't know how Sophia would react to that question and the King wasn't even sure why he was asking, but he thought he'd at least try and see what the answer would be.

"Perhaps one day. But, you are busy. You're King. Right now, Camelot needs you. Besides, Artair is young. He needs to learn many things and he needs to grow. He's still a baby, even though he looks like an eight year old," promised Sophia. "I need Artair to be with me so I may return to Avalon."

"I see," said Arthur in a tone that clearly said he didn't. He looked over at the boy. "Well, Artair. You have a fine name and a sturdy look about you. It was, uh, good to meet you. You mind your mother now. Listen to her."

"Oh, he will. He's a good boy," promised Sophia. She took Artair's hand. Before Arthur and Merlin, the two sidhe turned into the blue orbs. They floated off and then they were gone.

"Wow…you have a son," Merlin muttered. He stared at Arthur. "You played around in bed, making love while I bled to death in front of a stranger."

"She enchanted me!"

"A likely story," Merlin jested.

"She did!"

"Whatever you say," the warlock said with a droll.

"Mer-lin!" shouted Arthur as he hefted the deer onto the back of his horse. "I'll have your head for that."

"You gotta catch me first!" Merlin cried out. With both reins in hand, Merlin rode off with Arthur running after him.

The End

**Well, that's it! What did you all think? **


End file.
